Reunion RePercussions
by Marimba Panda
Summary: Tara meets James at her parents high school reunion, and is puzzled by the events that take place. Two years later, they meet again, and find that they're both involved with marching band. Told from Tara's P.O.V.
1. Prologue: August

Title: Reunion Re-Percussions

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: This fic starts out as a re-telling of what actually happened to me and then gets embellished as the story goes on. Basically, up until February everything that happens is true, and then it morphs in to my interpretation of what could have happened. Also, note that the prologue is in third person while the rest of the story is in first person. Hope everyone enjoys, and please review!

Reunion Re-Percussions

Prologue - August

Tara squirmed slightly on the hard picnic bench, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it was so hot outside that her legs were sticking to the bench. She gave up, and took a long drink from her water bottle, grimacing when she realized that her once ice cold water was now lukewarm.

It wasn't fair that her parents had dragged her to their stupid high school reunion barbeque, at a park an hour away from home. Simply put, it was boring, there were no girls there Tara's age, and the sweltering heat wasn't helping much.

Her mother came back to the table then and noticed her sulking daughter.

"Honey, why don't you go and try to make some friends? Matt already did. Your brother and the other boy are by the lake. They've all switched name tags, as a joke! Maybe you can go play with them."

"Mom, they're probably playing football or something. I hate sports."

Her mother sighed in defeat as her daughter went back to moping. Tara took another swig or water, figuring she'd rather drink warm water than dehydrate or pass out.

A shadow passed over the table, and Tara glanced up. A boy, who looked about her age, or maybe a little older, was standing behind her.

"Hi." He said, 'Who are you?"

"Tara," she replied. She glanced at his name tag, which read _Matt_, and remembered her mother mentioning the boys all switching name tags. She smiled and said, "And according to your nametag, you're my brother."

"Ewww," the boy said, and Tara wondered what he meant by that. "I'm James," the boy continued.

"Hi."

"Do you have a boyfriend?" James asked suddenly.

"No." Tara replied, surprised.

"Oh. Well…your brother said you did."

"Well, I don't."

"James!" A voice shouted from across the park. "Come on, we're leaving!"

"I gotta go," James said hurriedly. "Baseball game. I'll be back later."

Tara watched James' retreating back, thinking what an odd encounter that had been.

James never came back to the reunion. Or, if he did, it was long after Tara and her family had already left. Tara had questioned Matt, but he swore he hadn't told James that Tara had a boyfriend.

Over the next year or so, Tara thought about James occasionally. He really was a bit of a curiosity to her. When the next reunion rolled around the following summer, Tara's parents gave her the option to stay home. She remembered last year's heat wave, and decided not to go. _There's always next year_, she thought to herself when she remembered James. _Besides, he probably doesn't even remember me._


	2. August

Reunion Repercussions

August

I think I must really be insane. Really, honestly, downright crazy, to think that after two years, James could possibly remember me. But the fact of the matter is that even though I know that a question asked two summers ago (_Do you have a boyfriend?)_ means nothing now, I feel like I need to talk to James. I don't know why. I just do.

That would be why I'm currently sitting in the backseat of the blue Toyota heading towards Mulberry Park. And although I told my parents that dying of heatstroke is better than witnessing Matt and my cousin destroy the house (they opted to stay home), I know I'm really going to see James. Not that I even know if he'll be there, or what I'll say to him if he is.

I turn up the volume of my headphones, hoping that my Jekyll and Hyde soundtrack will drown out my own thoughts. I close my eyes as Façade starts. My thoughts drift towards marching band. Our show this year is Jekyll and Hyde, and yours truly has a mallet solo. Band camp starts tomorrow, and I'm trying to immerse myself in the music as much as possible.

The park is crowded when we get there. People are mingling with friends, children are running around everywhere. It doesn't matter they've never met before; they have fun anyway, and I envy them for that.

James isn't here yet, but even if he was, I'd still e sitting here at this picnic table, playing my handheld Tetris, because I've got no idea what to say if he shows up.

Twelve Tetris games and two new high scores later, a car pulls into the parking lot behind me. Something inside me just knows that James is here. I don't turn around, at least not right away.

I glance out of the corner of my eye and see James' parents greet my own; James follows not far behind. He's taller, way taller than me, (but then again I'm only five two. Most people _are_ taller than me.) He must be at least six three though. He glances around, and I hope he's maybe looking for me.

I walk over to my parents on the pretense of needing to tell my mother that I'm going to take a walk.

Our parents are talking, while James and I sort of hover off to the sides, eyeing each other. It's then that I notice he's patting his sides, and bobbing his head. He does this continuously, and a pattern develops. I can't stand it anymore, so I walk right up to him. I have to ask.

"Are you a drummer?"

He looks surprised, but I'm not sure if it's because we recognize each other, or because I can tell he's a drummer.

"Yeah," he replies.

"Me, too. Well, mallets mostly, but bass occasionally."

"Snare. You're in marching band."

"Yeah, band camps starts tomorrow." I'm awestruck, but honestly, only a conversation focused on band could possibly make us let our guards down so fast.

"What grade are you in?" James asks.

"Sophomore in the fall. You?"

"I'll be a junior."

We talk for a few minutes more, until my father says we're leaving. It's not until we're halfway home that I think I probably should have asked him for his screen name. It's too late now.


	3. September and November

Reunion Re-Percussions

September

After a week of futile online searches for James, including AOL, Myspace, and Google, I realize there's no guarantee I'll ever find him. So I decide to ask my mother to email James' mom to find out his screen name. I usually hate including my mother in my social life, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Two weeks later Mom claims she still "hasn't had the chance" to email James' mother. By now I realize she'll never get around to it.

Reunion Re-Percussions

November

Marching season went really well; we came in third place at championships. From September though now, James has been the farthest thing from my mind. With band practice or competitions six out of seven days a week, and Sundays rese4rved for homework, most of my spare time was accounted for. Of course, I'd always check if he band was competing with us, but since he lived in New York, I knew it wasn't likely. For the past three months, I've been perfectly content doing my band thing, but now I'm starting to think about James. And I really don't want to.


	4. January and February

Reunion Re-Percussions

January

We received James' family's Christmas card in the mail last week, and I thought, _Why didn't I think to send him a letter?_

I wind up digging through the trash for the return address label, and send off a short, friendly letter:

_James,_

_Hi, this is Tara, from the reunion this summer. I've been trying to get in touch with you for a while, so I decided to write you a letter. I had a great time talking with you at the reunion. My screen name is MalletGirl89, if you want to talk._

_From,_

_Tara_

I decide that I should wait about three weeks to hear from him, before getting my hopes up.

Reunion Re-Percussions

February

I haven't heard from James yet, and I'm trying to keep myself occupied, so I won't think about him. I joined the crew for our Winter Guard, which is a lot of fun. My best friend Audrey is in the guard and the crew are all friends of mine, too. Our inside jokes and conversations really help me not think about how it's been four weeks, and I still haven't gotten a response from James.

We've been especially busy lately, because our high school is hosting a winter guard competition next month, and we're doing a lot to prepare for it. I'm glad – I need the distraction.

Chris picks me up the next night for guard practice, and he can immediately sense something is wrong.

"What's up?" He asks.

"Still no response from James," I answer sullenly.

"Well, he's a jerk then, if he hasn't answered you yet." I smile feebly at Chris's attempt to make me feel better.

Two weeks later Chris, Glenn (another crew member), and I are busy posting signs around the high school, for the competition to next day.

"Honestly," starts Glenn, "the school goes around in a circle. Eventually, people will find the gym or cafeteria, or whatever they're looking for. These signs are pointless."

"Yeah, well, people are ignorant," I say, as I post a CAFETERIA sign with an arrow pointing straight ahead.

Chris comes around the corner then, holding on last sign, which he tacks up, up-side-down, about three feet away.

"Way to be, Chris" I say, as I fix the sign.

"I figured we could use a little variety", he says, laughing. I smile weakly.

"Still no word from James?" He guesses.

"I shouldn't care this much." I say, trying to shrug it off.

"Yes, you should." Glenn says firmly. "You obviously liked him enough to write to him in the first place. If he doesn't have the decency to get in touch with you, it's his loss."

"Aww, thanks, guys." I say. They always know what to say to make me feel better.

"Come on," Chris says, stopping me from getting all mushy. "We've still got to put up signs in the band wing for the drumlins competing tomorrow, too.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot about those." I say. I'm actually really excited to get to see an indoor percussion competition, being a percussionist myself. "I really hope we can compete with them next year." Our instructor has been trying to get board approval for us to compete indoors next winter, and I'm really thrilled about that.

We finish tacking up signs in about fifteen minutes, and then head back to the gym to disassemble props after the guard's last run through.


	5. The Competition Part I

Reunion Re-Percussions

The Competition: Part I

The morning of our home competition dawns bright and clear. When I go outside to fetch the morning paper, it's warmer than it's been in weeks. I decide to wear my favorite denim capris, along with my guard crew shirt. It's actually a really cool shirt; Chris designed them for the entire guard. Each one has a nick name and number on the back. I'm T-Ara, with my lucky number fifteen. Below that is our own special touch – our crew motto: "Crew: We Spin PVC."

Chris picks me up around eight, and I can see he's ready for spring as well, clad in shorts. We cruise to the high school with the windows down, radio blasting, not a care in the world.

The band parents hold a short meeting that morning before everything gets started. Nametags are handed out, and jobs assigned. Glenn, Chris, and I are designated as floaters, basically helping out wherever we're needed today, be it the kitchen, gym, or warm-up and staging areas.

After the meeting breaks up Chris and Glenn goof to find walkie-talkies for everyone, and I start chopping celery and carrots in the kitchen.

I'm in a good mood until lunch time. Noon was pretty much universal break time, and everyone crowds into the cafeteria. I manage to snag a seat with Audrey, Chris, and Glenn. That's when it starts raining. And I don't mean a little drizzle. I mean out right down pouring. And then I got this feeling in the pit of my stomach; the one that makes me feel that something hugs is about to happen, but I can't tell if it'll be good or bad.

I try to shrug it off as we eat our lunch, but I can't even participate in the conversation my friends are having. I just can't shake off that feeling that something's going to happen.

After lunch, we split up again. Audrey goes off with the other guard members to welcome the guards and drumlins who are competing today, and should be arriving within half and hour. Chris and Glenn are going to help direct buses where to park, so they're off to the other side of the school. I'm unsure of where I'm headed until one of the band parents rushes towards me.

"Mrs. Williamson had a family emergency, and had to leave." She says frantically. "Can you take over in the auditorium, Tara?"

"Sure." I reply. "Anything to help."

I make my way to the auditorium, where the drumlines will be warming up. It's empty when I get in there, and I realize I'll be here all day, which means I won't get to see the drumlins perform. Although, I will get an up close mini-performance of my own while they warm up.

The first drumline that comes in is soaked, and I run to the janitor's closet for towels so they can dry their instruments. Other than that though, I just sit in the auditorium and watch the drummers warm up, thinking that next year, I'll be performing, too.

Around five o'clock Glenn and Chris turn up. I'm actually so engrossed with watching drumlines that I didn't even realize how long I'd been there. The guys ask if I want anything, and bring me a slice of pizza back from the kitchen a few minutes later. Then they're off to the other side of the school again, to wait for the last few groups to arrive.

By six I've grown tired of sitting in the audience all alone, so I move onto the stage. I'm sitting on a platform by the curtain, as the last drumline files in, their backs facing me. After they warm up a little, they start running through parts of their show, which turns out to be Mars and Jupiter from The Planets, my favorite.

After a few more minutes, their instructor stops them and tells them to run through any problem spots on their own, while he runs to check out the competition.

As soon as he leaves, the auditorium is filled with a mesh of different sounds, which is actually quite comforting. Then someone shouts, "Damn!" above the din, and all the snares cut out. The tallest one, the one who yelled, takes off his drum and kneels next to it. The other snares all take off their drums, too, and crowd around him. From this angle, I can tell that he's broken his snare head. One of his friends gets an extra head that they brought just in case, and the tall snare drummer starts digging around in his uniform pocket for something.

"Damn," he says again, and now I think his voice sounds sort of familiar. "I can't find my drum key!"

"I've got one!" I say, jumping up, and fishing around in my pocket for the drum key I always carry with me. "Here," I say as I approach the tall snare player, holding out my hand. He turns around, and our eyes lock instantly.

It's James.

For a moment, everything falls silent, and you could cut the tension with a knife. My brain is only screaming _run, run_. The silence is shattered by the metal clanging of my drum key hitting the floor. I pivot, and run.

James manages to sputter, "T-Tara!" But it's no use. I'm already running to the nearest door. My vision is clouded with tears as I push open the door, and race out into the pouring rain.


	6. The Competition Part II

Reunion Re-Percussions

The Competition: Part II

I keep running until I reach the band wing, and I'm soaked through by the time I get there. And the door is locked. Of course.

By the time Chris and Glenn find me huddled on the steps, I'm numb. They bring me inside and find a blanket to drape over my shoulders. Glenn gets me a change of clothes; he knows I always keep extra clothes in my band locker. Chris gets a hot chocolate from the cafeteria. I must look a mess, honestly. My hair is soaked, and I'm freezing, but I don't care. It's like my brain has shut down. Chris breaks the silence first.

"That was James, wasn't it? We walked into the auditorium just as you ran out."

"He tried to explain what happened, but I think you really shocked him" Glenn says, trying not to smile. I can feel the tears clouding my vision again.

"You guys are the best," is all I can manage. They don't stop me from getting sappy today. They let me cry, and wrap me up in a three person hug, which winds up being a Tara sandwich.

Once I get all cleaned up, I assure the guys that I'll be fine, and that they should go watch the awards ceremony. I'll be fine on my own. I just need to be by myself.

I wander around aimlessly for a while, but my feet bring me back to the auditorium. Of course. I need to play, so I wheel my marimba out from backstage and start warming up. Scales first. B flat major, then E flat major. Some crossover exercises. Then real music; the ballad from Jekyll and Hyde: Someone Like You. I sing the lyrics as I play; it's one of my favorite songs from the soundtrack.

"But if someone like you found someone like me, then suddenly, nothing would ever be the same…" I lose myself in the music. I love this feeling, being surrounded by the melody, completely oblivious to anything that's not music.

I pause when I'm finished, still basking in the safety and comfort of the music, when applause draws me out of my trance.

James is standing in the wings of the stage, no longer in uniform. I don't move.

"I wanted to give this back." He holds out my drum key, which I take and pocket soundlessly. I wish he weren't' so tall. I don't want to have to look up to him. I lower my eyes. I'm debating whether or not to run again. All I know is that I need to get out of this auditorium. I turn around to leave.

"You know, from the first time I met you, I thought you were a really cool person." He says.

I stay where I am, my back facing him.

"I was so mad I never made it back to that first reunion. My baseball game ended really late." I don't want to hear his excuses, but at the same time I know I should say something.

"I sent you a letter." I say accusingly. _Do not turn around, Tara. Stay where you are._

"I know."

"You didn't answer it." I state.

"I know."

"It's been over a month."

"I – I didn't know what to say."

"If you didn't want to talk to me you could've had the decency to let me know!" I'm screaming how. I'm ready to storm out.

"I'm sorry."

I finally look him in the eyes, while my own eyes well up with tears for what seems like the millionth time tonight. But I'm not done yet. I've waited long enough to hear from him, and not I'm going to give him a piece of my mind.

"Do you have any idea – any inclination at all – what you put me through? Do you know that as soon as I get home from school I ask if I got mail? Do you know how many times a day I check my email? How many sleepless nights have had because I can't stop contemplating why you haven't gotten in touch with me?" I'm sobbing now, but I don't care. "I shouldn't care t his much. I shouldn't. But god, are you that dense? I liked you! I went out on a limb to write you that letter. And you didn't even answer it. I wish I never sent it!" I start to run, but trip, and fall.

James closes the gap between us in seconds and a moment later his arms encircle me. I don't even try to move, just crumple into a heap on the ground.

"Don't say that." He croaks. "Don't ever wish you never sent that letter."

"Why." I cry pitifully.

"Because I liked you, too."

I stop mid-sob, and our eyes lock. He continues.

"I had a great time talking with you at the reunion. Know that."

"You never got in touch with me."

"I was going to, I swear. And then I kept thinking, _What if I tell her I like her, and ruin everything?_"

"I took the chance. You should've, too." I say.

"I know. I'm sorry. Sorry for everything. I should've told you. Then none of this would've happened."

Then I laugh. Just burst out laughing, and James looks at me like I've got two heads.

"What's so funny?"

"We're so stupid. Really, if we'd just traded screen names or phone numbers at the reunion this summer, this could've all been avoided."

He laughs, too, then, and I know we're okay. Everything will turn out right from here. I smile as James wraps his arms around me again, and we stay like that for a while, just hugging on the stage.


	7. Epilogue: August

Reunion Re-Percussions

Epilogue – August

I feel the warmth of the sun as I step out of the car, and I smile. It's a beautiful day for a reunion.

Ironically, my family sits at the very same table we sat at for the very first reunion we came to. It's hard to believe that was three years ago. I sit down, and immediately turn my headphones on to this year's marching band show – Superstar. I take out Tetris, too, but it's hard to concentrate, because I'm waiting for someone. Take one guess who.

About half an hour later, a shadow passes over me. I turn around, and smile.

"Hi," says James. "Who are you?" I beam, and decide to play along.

"Tara." I reply, and glance at his name tag, which reads _Matt_. Of course. "And according to your name tag, you're my brother." He laughs.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Actually, I do."

"Oh, really?"

"Yup. He's very handsome, and he plays the drums." We both laugh, and break the charade. He hugs me, and I feel content.

"Let's go for a walk," he says.

"Alright."

He puts his arm around my shoulders as we set off into the park. The safe, comforting feeling returns and I smile. This is the way it should be.

The End


End file.
